"You, I presume, do not wish for biographical details--of my appearances
as a boy in Vienna and later in St. Petersburg, of my early studies with
Joseffy and later with Liszt," asked the great virtuoso. "You would like
to hear something about Liszt? As a man or as an artist? You know I was
with him ten years, and can flatter myself that I have known him
intimately. As a man, I can well say I have never met any one so good
and noble as he. Every one knows of his ever-ready helpfulness toward
struggling artists, of his constant willingness to further the cause of
charity. And when was there ever such a friend? I need only refer you to
the correspondence between him and Wagner, published a year ago, for
proof of his claims to highest distinction in that oft-abused capacity.
One is not only compelled to admire the untiring efforts to assist
Wagner in every way that are evidenced in nearly each one of his
letters, but one is also obliged to appreciate such acts for which no
other documents exist than the history of music in our day. The fact
alone that Liszt, who had every stage of Germany open to him if he had
so wished, never composed an opera, but used his influence rather in
behalf of Wagner's works, speaks fully as eloquently as the many letters
that attest his active friendship. For Liszt the artist, my love and
admiration are equally great. Even in his inferior works can be
discovered the stamp of his genius. Do you know the Polonaise, by
Tschaikowsky, transcribed by him? Is it not a remarkable effort for an
old gentleman of seventy-two? And the third Mephisto Waltz for piano?
Certain compositions of his, such as Les Preludes, Die Ideale, Tasso,
the Hungarian Rhapsodies, and some of the songs and transcriptions for
piano, will unquestionably continue to be performed and enjoyed for
many, many years to come.
"You ask how he played? As no one before him, and as no one probably
will ever again. I remember when I first went to him as a boy--he was in
Rome at the time--he used to play for me in the evening by the
hour--nocturnes by Chopin, etudes of his own--all of a soft, dreamy
nature that caused me to open my eyes in wonder at the marvellous
delicacy and finish of his touch. The embellishments were like a
cobweb--so fine--or like the texture of costliest lace. I thought, after
what I had heard in Vienna, that nothing further would astonish me in
the direction of digital dexterity, having studied with Joseffy, the
greatest master of that art. But Liszt was more wonderful than anybody I
had ever known, and he had further surprises in store for me. I had
never heard him play anything requiring force, and, in view of his
advanced age, took for granted that he had fallen off from what he once
had been."